Be Strong, Saith My Heart; I Am

There Is Nothing Nobler Or More Admirable Than When Two People Who See Eye To Eye Keep House As Man And Wife, Confounding Their Enemies And Delighting Their Friends.

I Wish That Strife Would Vanish Away From Among Gods And Mortals, And Gall, Which Makes A Man Grow Angry For All His Great Mind, That Gall Of Anger That Swarms Like Smoke Inside Of A Man's Heart And Becomes A Thing Sweeter To Him By Far Than The Dripping Of Honey.

Shoulder-to-shoulder, Swing To The Work, We Must - Just Two As We Are - If We Hope To Make Some Headway. The Worst Cowards, Banded Together, Have Their Power, But You And I Have Got The Skill To Fight Their Best.

Thus Have The Gods Spun The Thread For Wretched Mortals: That They Live In Grief While They Themselves Are Without Cares; For Two Jars Stand On The Floor Of Zeus Of The Gifts Which He Gives, One Of Evils And Another Of Blessings.

The Gods, Likening Themselves To All Kinds Of Strangers, Go In Various Disguises From City To City, Observing The Wrongdoing And The Righteousness Of Men.